


La Revolution

by withoutwingsx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage, Bottom Draco, Forced Marriage, Lucius and Draco have a good relationship, M/M, No Ginny Bashing, Nonexistant setting, Old Age, Rebel Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 13:37:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8329894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withoutwingsx/pseuds/withoutwingsx
Summary: England has split into two factions, the rebels- those who believe in equality and those who want to abolish slavery, and the nobles- those who have the land, the power and the wealth. Harry Potter has been front of the rebel movement since it began, and Draco Malfoy is merely heir to the Malfoy fortune, spending his days reading, napping and the occasional walk in the garden. When the nobles begin to experience consequences from the rebels seziure of the trade capital, an outrageous treaty is made for the appearance of goodwill, one that Harry Potter accepts, shocking the entire council and drawing Draco into the dangers of the political game.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second Drarry, a WIP this time.  
> The plot will develop over the chapters so this is just a little sneak peek at what is to come!  
> This was the plot bunny that wouldn't quit, slightly inspired from captive prince and from khal drogo and daenerys.  
> Enjoy!

The sunlight streamed through the curtains, splashing across the abundance of fluffy blue lace pillows partially covering a thin, pale body carelessly wrapped up in cornflower blue silk sheets. 

 

Draco’s head was completely off the pillow, resting on his arm which was haphazardly strewn to one side and resulting in his delicate, almost translucent hand lazily hanging off the bed. He emitted a sigh and turned in his sleep, causing his long legs to become even more tangled in the cool slippery sheets that did a shoddy job of covering him. Not that they were necessary, of course, the weather was warm and humid, the windows adorning his balcony wide open, probably tended by an early rising maid letting some fresh air in. 

 

A warm breeze gently filled the room, rustling the golden canopy hanging above his head, and Draco slowly opened his eyes from where his head was buried beneath one of his down feather pillows. He turned over and slowly sat up, stretching and contorting his body until his back let out a satisfied pop. A yawn stretched his mouth open, and he stood, letting the blue silk pool at his feet as he walked naked into the gold marble bathroom attached to his suite. 

 

The large tub was already filled with large slate rocks and still steaming water, and he made a mental note to thank Pansy, his personal handmaiden, when she brought him breakfast. She was adept at guessing when he would awake, and he never had to wait more than half an hour before she would bring him sweet cold fruit while he let the steaming water wake his body. 

 

He slowly lowered himself into the bath, a sighed as the heat pooled over his legs until he sunk all the way down into its warmth. He felt a relaxed sigh reach his lips, and he leant back into the ridge that supported his back and neck while he soaked. He could smell the cleansing salts and lavender that had already been added to the water, just like he could feel the oils begin to sink into his skin. He swore up and down that his flawless complexion that stretched from his high cheekbones to his toes was a result of Pansy’s pampering. If it wasn't blasphemy, he might even call it witchcraft.

 

The door to his suite creaked open and he smiled, neglecting to even open his eyes. “Pans, be a dear and bring honey alongside the fruit darling, I’m in the mood for something sweet.” He called and strained to hear when there was no reply. Heavier footsteps reached his ears and his eyes quickly opened and then narrowed as he took sight of the man standing in his bathroom entrance.

 

“Father.” He purred, standing up, unashamed of his nakedness. Draco stepped out of the cooling water and grabbed a soft and rather large white towel hanging from a hook near the bath. He wrapped it around his shoulders and it fell to mid thigh on his lithe body. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

 

“Draco.” Lucius took a step forward a planted a gently kiss on Draco’s flushed cheek. His lips felt cool compared to the heat from the bath. “It's been far too long, my heir.” 

 

Draco scowled and wiped his cheek with the back of his hand. “It’s only been a week father. Mother said the council had called, yet you neglected to say farewell.” He brushed by the taller man, and slipped onto his bed, expectantly looking into familiar grey eyes.

 

“I apologize Draco.” His father said smoothly, and took a seat on one of the armchairs adorning Draco’s small “reading area” which at the moment was cluttered with books of various sizes. “How long are you determined to pout? I apologized in letter yet you neglected to answer.”

 

Draco let out a loud sigh and looked down at his neat and trim nails, yet another perk of Pansy. 

 

“I am not pouting.” He grumbled, and scowled deeper at the flash of amusement that fluttered across Lucius’s face. “Anyway,” He sighed and sat up a little straight. “I know this is naught a social call. Out with it.”

 

Draco’s stomach clenched at the grim look that settled into his father’s mouth and the lines that wrinkled his forehead. “I feel this issue is better explained to you by your mother and I, I’m afraid it isn’t the best of news.”

 

Draco paused and searched his father's expression. “Has someone died? Have the rebels made it further into our territory?” He threw out a few guesses and his father's mouth softened.

 

“No my dear, nothing of that sort. It’s actually good news on that front, you could say.” Lucius stood and turned towards the door. “I promised Narcissa I wouldn't speak too in depth before she returned from your Aunt Bella’s. They have commissioned the seamstress to make a few more robes for tomorrow. Our whole family will be hosting a council meeting.

 

Draco blinked, confused. “The council is coming here?” He asked. “Whyever would they do that?” 

 

Lucius stepped into the hall and turned back to Draco. “It will be explained tonight at dinner. Pansy will be down shortly with your breakfast. Do try to stay out of too much trouble today.” He instructed and closed the door behind him. Draco stared confusedly after him. 

 

Draco stood and sighed loudly, standing up and walking to the large windows that led to his personal balcony. From there, he could see the green rolling hills of his family's land, all the way to the smaller houses of the workers, and then to the farmers fields that were miles past the Malfoy property. Even from his perch, he still knew he wasn’t anywhere near the rebels border or even close to where the last round of fighting had been, so many months ago. In fact, he had never been even close to where the fighting had occurred. 

 

It had been four years since Draco had even left the property, besides the council meeting in which Lucius had been given the position of head, basically the hand to Voldemort, if he was ever considered the “King”. At the moment the country (Draco’s side anyhow) referred to him as President, and the council everyone knew, was where the real power was had. 

  

Draco had been cooped up on the Manor’s boundaries for 4 years, but it really wasn’t too horrific. He had his mother, Pansy, his tutor and friend Blaise, Gregory (who would be his guard and chauffeur if he was ever allowed out), and Crabbe, one the cook’s sons. His father would spend a few hours a week with him, discussing politics, but mostly keeping him informed on his duties as heir to both the Malfoys and the Blacks. Malfoy Manor by itself took up 1/10 of the land considered Old England, and the Black’s land was 10 percent of both Old and New England. He knew at the moment that the land on the other side of the border was being used by the rebels, but he was told that they would regain it once Voldemort defeated the rebels and united England again. 

 

Narcissa Malfoy was originally the daughter of the Black Family, but when the son and heir became estranged, the Malfoys negotiated a marriage contract, merging their property into one. Narcissa, being the oldest, was married to Lucius, and the procural of an heir, Draco himself, had sealed the contract, making Draco the heir to both fortunes. Hence his safety being the main priority for his mother and father, and resulting in his basic entrapment in his childhood home.

 

Not that Draco was arguing, he was safe and happy as one could be. He let the sunlight run over his alabaster skin and warm him gently, and absentmindedly stared at fields dancing in the warm breeze. 

 

The sound of the door opening made him turn to see Pansy entering with a silver tray in one hand and a glass pitcher in the other. She looked up from balancing her items and narrowed her eyes. 

 

“Dress yourself Draco.” She snapped and a red flush rose to her cheeks. Drao merely blinked and watched her set the tray on his reading table, precariously placed on one of the many book stacks. 

 

He wandered over and grabbed a bowl of cold melon, delighting in Pansy’s glare as he lifted a dripping piece to his mouth with his fingers, ignoring the cold liquid that dripped down his chest.

 

“Draco, I will leave if you refuse to dress.” She threatened and Draco sighed, wiping his hand on his bedsheet and pulling a thin silk robe from his armoire. He shrugged it on and cinched it in the front, the soft fabric slipping slightly off his shoulder. 

 

“Happy?” He asked and snatched another piece of melon and she sighed. 

 

“Yes. Thank you. We are all not as comfortable with nakedness as you are.”

 

Draco shrugged and grabbed the glass of sweet milk she had poured from him. “Not my problem.” He stated and and downed the chilly liquid in a few gulps.

 

Pansy sat in one of the chairs in front of the table, staring at her hands. “Melon?” Draco held a piece out to her, the sweet juice running down his hand and arm.

 

She shook her head but neglected to look up, a worried frown marring her feminine features. Pansy wore her dark hair in a severe bun, a result of her mums scolding no doubt, and sharp square bangs covered her forehead. She had arched brows, brown eyes and a small upturned nose. Her lips were large and her chin was pointed. Draco supposed she would be considered attractive, not that he looked at her as such. It wasn’t the opposite, really, he just couldn’t bring himself to care much about anyones appearance (other than his own). Pansy’s forehead wrinkled and Draco couldn't help but put a finger to the crease and smooth it gently, causing her to jump a little.

 

“What’s wrong.” He asked, grabbing a berry from a glass bowl on the tray and sucking on it.

 

“I heard something.” She said, refusing to look up at Draco. Draco sighed and stood, walking over to the full length mirror near his wardrobe and critically looking over his appearance. His almost white hair reached almost his lower back now, when the maid that had usually maintained it for him had been beheaded for stealing a year prior he had sort of forgotten about it. 

 

Usually he just had it put up and out of his way.

 

“What did you hear.” He asked dully, not bothering to pretend to be interested. 

 

“I can't tell you.” Was the cryptic response and Draco shrugged.

 

“Oh well, I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.” He padded over to where she sat. “Make yourself useful wrench and braid my hair.” He plopped down in front of her and enjoyed the feeling of her deft hands pulling and twisting at his scalp.

 

 

Harry woke to the sound of yelling and something hitting a wall somewhere. He groggily reached for his spectacles and grasped at thin air until his eyes jolted open and he remembered. Hermione, thanks to her experimental treatment, had made it so he had no need for them anymore.

 

He sat up and arched his back until a satisfying crack echoed through the room. The shouting began again and Harry, recognizing the voices, sighed, standing up and padding out of his room towards where he knew they would be emitting from.

 

“- Frankly I could give a rats ass about tradition. What we are fighting for, Ronald, is equality and your family's archaic ideas are almost just as bad as-”

 

“- That statement is absurd! Tradition is the very basis for why this country has even prospered for so long, and partially why we have support! Riddle tried changing things and look where it got them!”

 

“-They weren’t aiming to change things for the better Ronald!”

 

“Woman how do you-”

 

Harry winced as he observed something else smash into the wall next to where the red-headed diplomat (of sorts) was standing. 

 

“Hermione.” He called and both figures turned to face him. Hermione's face was bright with anger, her dark skin flushed almost purple down to her neck, and her dark golden curls haloed around her face. Her eyes were narrowed and she looked almost murderous. Ronald, on the other hand, was pale and looked defensive, and slightly terrified. Harry really couldn’t blame him.

 

“Good, you’re here.” Hermione said shortly and took a threatening step towards Harry. “I’m gone for one day and you two ignorant asshats almost ruin everything we’ve worked for!”

 

Harry groaned and looked pityingly at Ronald. “How’d she find out?” He asked, and the redhead pointed to a parchment lying on the large oak table, a vibrant red council seal standing out on the cream paper. “Oh.” Harry said Hermione clenched her fists.

 

“Oh?” She snarled. “OH? That’s all you can say when you put everything we’ve done in jeopardy for what this buffoon-” she pointed at Ron, who looked understandably offended,”-describes as tradition? What kind of narrow minded, cockamamy, idiotic stunt do you think you two-”

 

“Hermione.” Harry said forcefully and she paused mid-rant, a confused look overtaking her features. “Sit.” He pointed at one of the chairs and she sat, crossing her arms and glaring at him. Harry inclined his head and Ron took a seat, Harry grabbing the letter before sliding into a chair himself. He glanced over the letter and paused, looking at Ron. “That was a quick reply.” He said dryly and Ron grinned.

 

“That's what tends to happen when you control the export/import capital and the nobles are starting to get a little too hungry to be good puppets.” He smiled and Harry looked over at the fuming woman who was still glaring.

 

“Okay Hermione. What do you know?” He asked and Hermione deflated slightly. 

 

“I read the letter.” She said and Harry sheepishly ran a hand through the mess of hair atop his head.

 

“Okay so let me explain from the beginning I guess.” He began and Hermione nodded.

 

“So yesterday an owl came in while Ron and I-”

 

 

Draco had been lightly napping when the dinner bell echoed through the manor. He sat up and brushed the tendrils of escaped hair back into his braid with his fingers, and shrugged on a thin white robe that cinched at the waist and fell to below the knee. He walked down to the foyer and was surprised to see his mother was already seated in the dining hall, a grim look on her delicate features.

 

“Mother” Draco nodded to her and slid into the ornate chair across from here. She looked up and smiled at him, but Draco could see right through her.

 

“Father will be down shortly.” She said and slid her hand across the table, gently cupping one of Draco’s own skinny hands and entwining their fingers. “How was your day? What did you get up to?”

 

Draco smiled and squeezed her hand gently. “Not much really, Pansy braided my hair, I went for a walk through the gardens, and Blaise got me a new book. I started reading it and then took a light nap. I’ll have to read some of the pages to you. It’s beautifully written.”

 

Narcissa smiled fondly. “That sounds like a lovely day Draco.” 

 

Lucius entered the room, kissing Narcissa gently on the cheek before sitting at the head of the table. “I apologize if was late.” He said and Narcissa shook her head.

 

“It’s fine darling, Draco and I were just discussing his day.”

 

Crabbe and his mother chose this time to enter with plates and steaming food, and cool wine and water. Draco immediately set his eyes on the tender duck adorned with lemon and orange and a thick sauce that almost looked like honey. Crabbe set a wine glass in front of him with a thick pink liquid in it.

 

“We just got this a few days ago,” Crabbe whispered. “It’s almost like drinking cherries, I thought you’d like it.” Draco conspiringly winked and took a sip. It was bubbly and danced across his tongue. There was an underlying taste of grapes but it was very sweet and syrupy like crystallized fruit. Draco smiled and took another sip. 

 

After they ate in silence for a few minutes, Lucius cleared his throat. “Draco.” He stated and  Draco swallowed quickly and wiped his mouth with the cloth.

 

“Yes father?”

 

“As you know your mother and I have some news for you.” At this Lucius and Narcissa exchanged a look, but Draco was afraid the sweet drink might have gone to his head more than he was aware, since he could not interpret it. 

 

“As I’m sure you’re aware, it has been almost 4 months since any conflict with the rebels. Due to the trade capital being on the other side of the border, some of the lesser nobles have been having troubles with supplying food for the households, and in some areas it could even be called a shortage. As of this month the problem has been considered drastic, and Voldemort and the council have decided we must take measures.”

 

“From the very beginning the conditions of the rebels were overall freedom of the slaves and the poor, but due to most of the households on our side of the border having servants, that negotiation would be virtually impossible. For the rebels, however, just their own freedom is not enough to satisfy them. Therefore the council sent them an offer as of yesterday which we were almost sure they would refuse, but one that would show our intent of,” at this Lucius scoffed, “goodwill. To our surprise and to my shock, they accepted, with minor changes being made, but this is where you are concerned.” Lucius and Narcissa clasped their hands together, and Lucius took a deep breath.

 

“Son, I promise when the suggestion was made, I had no idea that it would even be considered by the rebels, much less accepted. And I feel I must apologize.”

 

Draco felt a seed of dread began to expand in his stomach. He felt nauseous, from the drink or from the suspense, he wasn't sure. “What was offered.” He asked quietly, and felt his stomach cramp as Narcissa's face went stark white.

 

“You.” Lucius said simply, and Draco felt nothing but pure panic creep up his spine as tears began to roll down his mother's face.

 

 

“But marriage Harry?” Was Hermione's main comment throughout the whole story, and Harry felt a headache beginning to come on. 

 

“Tradition.” He growled out and pinched his temples. 

 

“But what about you and Ginny?” She inched closer. “Weren’t you already promised to her, because of tradition.” Hermione spat and Harry felt boxed in. 

 

“It wasn’t an absolute Hermione,” he said and sighed. “Plus, this is more important. Ron and I made some changes to their agreement and they finalized it. We are formally meeting in a few weeks and it will be signed in blood.” Hermione still looked bothered.

 

“What if it’s a trap?” She asked and Harry grinned. 

 

“That’s why they are coming here. The Malfoy brat and his personal servants,” at this he saw Hermione’s eye twitch, “his father and mother, an officiate, and two council members with the treaty document. It’s a temporary fix but it will work, and I don’t think the boy will give us too much trouble.”

 

“How old is he?” She asked and Harry slung an arm over his face. 

 

“He’s newly turned 16.”

 

“Oh.” She blushed and Harry looked her evenly in the eyes.

 

“I have heard almost nothing of him, besides he’s not permitted to leave the Malfoy lands, and he technically is heir of the estate we are currently occupying.”

 

Hermione scoffed. “This is Sirius’s land.” 

 

“Not according to Old England and the council. Since Sirius sided against the council, he is technically no longer a Black. But part of the agreement is our right to the land on the other side of the border, until more realistic borders can be drawn up. Then the land will be granted to our forces and no longer even part of England.”

 

Hermione sighed. “It sounds too good to be true.”

 

“That's because it is.” Harry said dryly. “Obviously they are trying to buy time and then wipe us out, but by having the Malfoy brat basically as out hostage, we can know that Lucius won’t step against us if he thinks that the boy is in danger, which leaves us only Voldemort the the other council members to worry about. But Lucius will also try to protect his son, so we should be safe for quite a bit.”

 

“I sure hope so.” Hermione said and Harry nodded.

 

“Me too.”


	2. Chapter 2

Draco, try as he might, could not find sleep that night. He felt tense, like simultaneously crying and fleeing at the same time. He had known, yes, that marriage for him was inevitable, but to his father's enemy and a chaotic rebel? Voldemort had on many an occasion described Potter as deluded and insane, yet he wanted Draco to marry him.

 

The next morning the bags framing his large eyes was the least of his worries as he stared at his reflection looking back at him. He had anticipated marriage eventually, but not to a male, one of low status and one leading the revolution that wanted to strip his family of their title and possessions. He couldn’t believe this was not just a nightmare, one he would awake from to soak in a hot bath and forget.

 

Pansy rapped softly on his door, and he turned as she soundlessly glided in. “Please dress,” she instructed, and Draco numbly clothed himself in the assortment she handed him. He tried not to focus on the pity which danced across her face and shone from her eyes.

 

As he walked into the foyer, he was greeted with the wooden table filled with the council members, all which turned to look at him as he entered. He stuttered a hello, and quickly made his way to the open seat between his mother and father. 

 

From his position he could make out the pale figure sitting at the head of the table, red eyes glowing out from the white skin, blue veins obvious underneath the surface of the President’s thin skin. It wasn’t well known, the cause of Voldemort’s illness, but rumor after rumor had circulated, those of curses and sickness and even immortality in exchange for his deformation. Draco knew better than to believe them, yet sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder.

 

The murmuring of the council danced around his ears and through his mind, but he couldn’t find it in him to pay attention. 

 

His father was actually doing this, using Draco as some sort of archaic bartering tool to try and influence their victory. Lucius had always spoken of the civic war as unimportant and ridiculous, but here they were, changing their very lives to cater to the President’s goals of crushing the resistance. 

 

“Draco?” His father's voice cut him out of his revenge and back into reality, the beady judgemental eyes of the council all focused on him.

 

“Pardon?” Draco said weakly, and shivered when a cold and slippery voice answered back.

 

“Young Malfoy, as I was saying, I know this is a trying time,” Voldemort’s voice was like nails sliding on glass, like a melody being played on an out of tune harp. It made icy fingertips dance up Draco’s back and goosebumps break out on his arms. “-but I know you can be counted on to keep your dear father and I in the know.” He finished and for a second Draco blanked.

 

In the know? Just what was he inferring?

 

“About what?” He replied hesitantly.

 

“Merely anything of interest, anything that could benefit you and your family.” Draco couldn't help the nausea that followed that reply, he could almost make out a veiled threat through Voldemort's sugar coated words.

 

“They won’t trust me,” his voice barely shook, and for that, Draco was relieved.

 

“Ah, you are such a beautiful and innocent flower. I do not think we need to worry about Potter trusting you. Anyone would view you as an angel, and worship you accordingly” Draco felt Voldemort's eyes creep down from his pale exposed ankles back up to the hollow of his neck. He resisted the urge to wrap his cloak around him tighter and cover any revealed skin. “I have an informant,” he continued, “who has sent whispers of Potter and his interesting taste. You seem to be the perfect type of spice that he prefers to enjoy.” 

 

Draco felt his blood run cold, did this mean that Voldemort had chosen to offer his hand in marriage merely because his appearance was in line with that of Potters liking? Did this mean that the President expected Draco to seduce the rebel? He had no idea what Potter even looked like, in fact he couldn’t help but envision a replicate of his own President, which chilled Draco to the bone. He would prefer an aged peasant over the reptilian face that stared back at him. 

 

“President,” Draco hesitantly choked out, “I am lacking in more than just mere experience. I know not if I will even please my new husband in person, much less physically.”

 

Voldemorts beady red eyes seemed to be peering into his very soul, and Draco resisted the intense urge to shiver and grab his mother into a warm embrace. He felt as though his very mind was being violated by the pale and disturbed man. Great visionary he may be, Draco still did not favor him one bit.

 

“Draco,” the raspy voice finally answered his unspoken plea. “I firmly believe you can accomplish whatever you put your soul into.” Draco nodded, breaking eye contact and finally felt he could breathe again as Voldemort changed his attentions to another.

 

Now he knew his true purpose, not as a bargaining chip, but as an agent to seduce and betray his betrothed. 

 

 

Hermione looked frustrated, and Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his co-council. “I know Hermione.” He said for what felt like the fifth time.

 

“Harry. It’s ludicrous that you agreed to this. It’s obviously a trap.”

 

“We know Hermione,” Ron echoed and the two men shared a tired look. “Not much can be done now.”

 

“Tomorrow is the day.” Harry said, sighing and leaning back into his chair. “I suppose we shall see what will happen.”

 

 

Pansy growled at Draco as she rewrapped the white silk around his midriff. “Stop moving!”

 

“It’s too tight.” Draco fussed back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m going to overheat and pass out.”

 

Pansy sighed and loosened it before pinning it in place and stepping back to eye her work. She grabbed the next piece, a huge cloak of thin white and gold linen and Draco slipped it on, pushing the hood down temporarily and huffing as she laced up the front. Draco slipped on the white gloves that she handed him, and sat still as she applied a thin layer of pale cosmetics to his skin and swiped his lips with pale rogue. 

 

“I still don’t understand why I need to be so, covered.” Draco said and Pansy sighed.

 

“Partially shock factor and partially security.” She repeated and twisted Draco’s hair up away from his face, long tendrils still falling down his back. “Just in case you aren’t to Potter’s fancy.”

 

“Who wouldn't find me beautiful.” Draco said vainly, only partially in jest, and Pansy smacked his arm. “Kidding.” He lied. 

 

 

Harry ignored the stares and murmurs that surrounded him as he welcomed the Malfoy’s and entourage into the estate building. 

 

Harry tried to get a better look at his “bride to be” but all he could make out was a slender body swatched in translucent gold and white cloth, with a hood almost obscuring all his face from view. This was under the guise of tradition, he was sure. 

 

He shook hands with Lucius Malfoy, who gripped Harry’s hand with a strong force which would have injured a weaker man. Narcissa held a elegant hand out to Harry, and he raised the pale unmarred skin to his lips. Her aged skin was soft and firm, and looked as though she had never once worked a day in her privileged life. He was quite sure this was indeed the truth.

 

Harry’s fiancee came closer, but he was still hidden from sight. Both Malfoys were regal and handsome, so Harry was positive (or at least hopeful) that his betrothed would be pleasant to the eyes. Narcissa embraced Harry, pulling him close into the silk folds of her dress, and she put her ears to his lip.

 

“Please take care of Draco.” She said quietly, and sighed. “He is an innocent.” Harry pulled back and nodded once, to which she smiled grimly and released him. Draco was his name, Harry felt as if he had heard that before, but he was sure it would have been mentioned being as the Malfoys were very politically powerful. 

 

An archaic man leaning heavily on a silver cane walked forward and shook Harry’s hand.

 

“I am the officiate” he croaked out and gestured at the Malfoy boy, who elegantly glided forward. 

 

Harry only half listened as the officiate rambled out the mandatory words, before asking them to clasp hands. The boy, Draco (as Harry was sure he would have to start addressing him by), was wearing thin white gloves that showed the slim shape of his hands but not much else. Perhaps he had a terrible skin deformity, Harry mused. 

 

The tradition must be there for a reason, perhaps the Malfoys had a family curse of terrible deformity. Harry grasped the thin long hands in his own, and recited the words the officiate spoke to him. The old man turned to Draco, and the boy also recited them, his voice wasn’t anything particular, not very low but also not very high, though his accent branded him as highborn as well as his crisp pronunciation of every word. 

 

The officiates coughing fit woke Harry from his musing, and he was half terrified that the old man may kneel over and die. “The ceremony is done, you may remove the veil, symbolizing that Draco Lucius Black Malfoy is now Draco Lucius Black Malfoy Potter.” Harry stifled a smirk. Now that name was a mouthful. Those traditionals and their significance of names.

 

Harry went to remove the veil, but he had no idea where it began or ended. “Let me.” Draco’s voice came from behind the fabric, and his gloved hands came up a in one fluid motion gently removed the fabric and pushed down the hood hiding the rest of his head.

 

The first word that came to mind was pale. Draco Malfoy was possibly the palest person Harry had ever laid eyes on, yet he didn’t look sickly, rather he looked ethereal if that was even the right word. His skin was milky and flawless, the color of freshly fallen snow. His eyes were large and silver, framed by pale lashes, and his nose was straight and upturned. He had full pink lips, and a sharp jawline with slightly pointed chin. His cheekbones protruded from his face, as his hair was tightly braided away from his features, only drawing more attention to his sharp beauty. His hair was almost as white as him, with a tint of pale beige, and was braided into some kind of elaborate style on his head before cascading down his back. Harry could tell it was long and thick. His neck was also thin and bony, and Harry couldn’t really see his body through the layers of fluttering fabric surrounding him. 

 

For the life of him, Harry had no idea how no one had bothered to mention how stunning the Malfoy heir was. His beauty was genderless, ageless in fact, and for someone raised in the heat and warmth of Old England, he looked more exotic than the traders from the icy lands to the north. 

 

Harry cleared his throat as Malfoy began eyeing Harry curiously but warily. “So, Draco, did you want me to call you that?”

  

Draco looked gently towards the ground and softly bowed his head, his pink lips parting gently. “Call me what you will, as my husband.” He said softly and turned, heading to where his parents stood grimly. Harry merely watched him as he walked, his lithe hips swaying and the white fabric surrounding him gently dancing in the breeze. 

 

Narcissa Malfoy obviously didn’t know her son very well, else she would have told Harry to look out for himself rather than her boy.

 

 

It was during their dinner, only Draco and his new husband staring at each other over a small table, that Draco reflected on the day.

 

Draco was expecting Harry Potter to be old, ugly and deformed. It was just the mental image he had cultivated ever since the uprising. He was not expecting him to be tall and lean, with very obvious muscles bulging along his arms and back. He was not expecting him to have dark olive skin, bright green eyes and inky black hair which curled around his face and in the nape of his neck. 

 

He most certainly didn't expect him to have such a deep and gravelly voice, or such warm hands that Draco could feel through his own chiffon gloves. His hands were calloused and scarred, large but brimming with experience and life. Draco felt so young and so inexperienced in comparison. 

 

He did not expect the small shiver that rose up his back at the deep expression in the emerald eyes as Potter’s deep voice recited the words he would soon need to repeat.

 

In fact, Draco had not expected the almost flirtatious tone that he himself uttered as he saw Potters confusion in lowering his veil, another tradition he reminded himself which this revolutionary did not know. 

 

Harry Potter looked serious, intense, and above all else full of life, which made Draco feel as though his seduction and infiltration may not be as painstakingly awful on his part.

 

Potter stared at him as they ate, intelligent contemplation in his bright eyes. 

 

“Did you want to ask me something?” Draco quipped and the man jumped a little.

 

“Not particularly.” He said and leaned forward a little. “You? Any questions for me?”

 

“How old are you?” Draco stated, not one to dance around subjects. 

 

“Twenty-five years.” He replied and Draco paused.

 

“So young?” He asked and tilted his head in curiousity. “I was expecting you to be much older.”

 

“Yes, I’ve heard that before.” His deep voice was filled with humor.

 

“Oh.” Draco paused and took a bite of his food. 

 

“You’re sixteen?” He asked and Draco nodded. 

 

“Yes.” He said and his husband looked almost wary. “I am old enough.” Draco said quickly, and then tried to push down the blush that rose to his cheeks. Way to sound eager.

 

“Yes.” Was the reply he received. 

 

After they finished eating, Draco was led up stairs and to a large room, beautifully crafted but showing signs of wear and mistreatment. 

 

“This is my room.” Potter said and gestured towards the large space. “And now yours as well.” Draco suddenly felt nervous, and tried to ignore the shaky feeling that filled his body. He supposed he would be expected to pleasure his new husband, however he had no idea how to even begin. 

 

Potter interrupted his fearful musing. “I will go change for bed.” He said and headed in the direction of the large bathroom, grabbing articles of clothing on the way. Draco sighed and peeled off his clothing until he was only clad in the silk underclothes beneath his formal wear. He slipped into the bed, nervously shifting under the covers and turning in the direction of the door his husband disappeared into.

 

Potter walked back in, wearing a pair of dark thin trousers and nothing else, and blew out the candles that were on the tables. He slipped into bed and Draco held his breath nervously.

 

“Relax.” The voice was deep and commanding. “I won’t touch you.” Draco couldn’t help the relieved sigh that left his lips.

 

“You can, if you want.” He said, remembering Voldemort’s cold words. “You’re my husband.”

 

“I prefer my lovers willing.” Was Potter’s cryptic response, and his husband shifted away from him and closed his eyes.

 

Draco breathed out deeply and turned, curling into a ball and feeling a sense of relief and calm come over him. Perhaps now sleep could find him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the lateness of this chapter and the next one should be out in a more timely manner but it will be a little while. Thanks for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> I already have some of the next chapter typed up.  
> Is this my best work? Heck no! Its been so long since i last wrote so im still getting into the groove of it! so pardon me while i work on improving it!


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